


Exhaustion and Adrenaline

by DeathBelle



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, Hand Jobs, Locker Room, M/M, canonverse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-02
Updated: 2017-06-02
Packaged: 2018-11-08 06:39:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11076108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeathBelle/pseuds/DeathBelle
Summary: After a brutal series of practice matches, all Kuroo wants is a good night's sleep.It's difficult to focus on sleep, however, when his best friend is strutting around the locker room with a hard-on.Oh, well. Kuroo would sleep better after a good orgasm, anyway.





	Exhaustion and Adrenaline

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Hells](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hells/gifts).



> My first (but probably not last) Bokuroo fic. 
> 
> Written for Seno. I pushed him into Bokuroo hell, and then he dragged me down with him.

Kuroo was absolutely exhausted.

He’d lost count of how many practice matches they’d played that day. He’d stopped trying to keep track once they’d hit fifteen. He did know they’d done six penalties total, but they’d won significantly more than they’d lost.

He plopped down on one of the benches in the locker room and rested his head in his hands. It seemed everyone else had already showered and left. He’d stayed in the gym later than everyone else to speak with Coach Nekomata, discussing ideas and strategies to practice the following day. He wasn’t sure why Coach wanted to talk to him. It would have been more beneficial to talk to Kenma. Kenma was the one who told everyone what to do anyway, and Kuroo was okay with that.

Kuroo allowed his eyes to close, just for a moment. He knew he should take a shower and head straight back to the team’s shared room to sleep. He would need all of the rest he could get in order to perform well tomorrow.

But instead of moving, his head grew heavier in his hands. He snapped out of a doze a few minutes later when a locker slammed with the force of a thunderclap.

His head jerked up and he found Bokuto grinning at him, still dressed in his practice jersey. His forehead was slick with sweat, but his ridiculous hair was still perfectly upright. 

“Hey, hey, Kuroo. Guess we wore you out, huh?” said Bokuto. He stood a little straighter and pushed his shoulders back. “We did win the most matches today. We’re the best at the whole training camp.”

“Shut up, stupid owl,” Kuroo grumbled, letting his face fall into his hands again. “Why are you still here?”

“Well I was trying to practice with Akaashi,” said Bokuto, his face falling into a slight frown, “but he said if he had to toss me one more ball he would either kill me or himself. So he went to bed and I practiced serves by myself for a while.”

He frowned for another moment, then shrugged it off and turned back toward his locker. He bent over to get his bag out of the bottom and the hem of his shorts rode up just enough for Kuroo to glimpse the top edge of his long kneepads, along with the slice of skin just above them.

Kuroo closed his eyes and hid his face again. He was too tired to deal with this right now.

“You alright, dude?” said Bokuto. “You got a headache or something?”

“No, I’m good,” said Kuroo. “Just tired as hell. I don’t know how you’re still even awake after extra-extra practice.”

His eyes were closed, but he could still sense Bokuto’s broad smile.

“Training camps give me so much energy!” said Bokuto. There was the sound of shuffling, probably Bokuto rifling through his bag. “I could go all night if they’d let me. I’m just so pumped, you know? It’s like that one time when I chugged six energy drinks in an hour and I thought my heart was going to explode, but it felt great at the same time, you know? Only right now it’s natural, and my heart is okay. But it’s still the same kind of buzzing. Only I guess it’s adrenaline instead of caffeine.”

Kuroo didn’t bother pointing out what a bad explanation that was. Regrettably, he knew exactly what Bokuto meant. He felt that way himself sometimes when he wasn’t so tired that he could easily fall asleep on the filthy locker room floor. 

He peeked up again at the sound of a zipper to find Bokuto yanking open his bag. He dug out a pair of sweatpants, tossed them onto a nearby bench, and then pulled his jersey over his head. 

Kuroo had been in this situation before. Because of that, he knew better than to even look.

Still, his eyes flitted down to the strong line of Bokuto’s shoulders and the broad planes of his chest, dipping lastly to the solid abs that were even more defined than they’d been during their last training camp.

He was too tired to stop himself from staring, and too tired to keep himself from looking just a little bit lower.

When he did, his heart stalled in his chest and his mouth was suddenly sandpaper dry.

“Dude, are you _hard_ right now?”

Bokuto glanced over at him and blinked in surprise. Then he looked down at the bulge in the front of his shorts. “Oh. I guess so.”

Kuroo just stared at him and Bokuto rushed to explain himself.

“It’s not a big deal! It happens, you know? I mean, like I said, I just get so pumped! I can’t even help it sometimes. It just… don’t _look_ at me like that!” 

By the time he stuttered through his explanation a red flush had risen to color his cheeks. He looked away from Kuroo and started aimlessly digging through his bag.

Kuroo pressed his lips together to keep from laughing. Bokuto was one of his best friends. He had many admirable qualities, the most notable of which was his athletic prowess. Kuroo respected him for that, but that wasn’t the reason he liked him.

Despite the sense of bravado that he wore like a crown, Bokuto wasn’t as conceited as one would think. He was confident, but also a little self-conscious; blunt, but also sensitive; dense at times, but also eerily perceptive.

Right now he was wielding his rare insecurity like a shield, and Kuroo felt a warm burst of affection deep in his chest.

He and Bokuto had been friends since the first time they’d played a practice match during their first year of high school. 

During their last training camp, that friendship had crossed a line. Kuroo thought maybe one of them would come to regret it, but he certainly didn’t, and it appeared that Bokuto wasn’t exactly upset about it, either.

Kuroo stood, his weariness sloughing away like melting snow. He stepped up beside Bokuto, who was still pointedly not looking at him, and spun him around by his arm. 

Bokuto took an awkward step back and almost stumbled, but Kuroo’s grip kept him steady. Bokuto was holding a pair of underwear that he’d plucked out of the bag, the fabric crinkling in his clenched fingers.

“You embarrassed, Bo?” said Kuroo. His mouth stretched into a lopsided grin. 

“Shut up.” He pushed at Kuroo with the fist gripping the underwear. “Don’t make fun of me.”

“’M not,” said Kuroo. He gripped Bokuto’s wrist and guided it away, moving closer so Bokuto was forced to inch back. 

He only stopped when Bokuto’s back thumped against the wall of lockers with a muted metallic clang. Kuroo was only slightly taller, but he used those bare couple of centimeters to his advantage. He pressed nearer, his chest against Bokuto’s, their hips so close that he felt the heat of Bokuto’s erection against his thigh. 

Kuroo was exhausted, yet he felt himself stir at the mere sensation of Bokuto hot and hard against him. 

He would sleep better after a good orgasm, anyway. It was science.

“Your face is all red,” said Kuroo. He rolled his hips forward and dragged a sharp gasp from Bokuto. “You alright, Bo? Something wrong?”

Bokuto squeezed his eyes shut. His wrist tensed in Kuroo’s grip as he clenched his fist. Then the tension eased, Bokuto’s underwear fell from his hand, and his eyelids snapped open to reveal a pair of smoldering golden flames. “You’re such a tease, Kuroo.”

Kuroo tilted his head a little, still grinning. “It’s only teasing if I don’t deliver afterwards.”

Bokuto pulled his wrist out of Kuroo’s grip and seized the front of his practice jersey. He shoved Kuroo to the side and switched their positions, slamming Kuroo against the lockers and pinning him in place. He yanked Kuroo forward by his jersey and their mouths smashed together a little painfully. Neither of them complained. Kuroo gripped Bokuto’s waist and pulled him even closer, working his aching lips against Bokuto’s, rolling his hips to create a rush of friction.

Bokuto moaned and Kuroo seized the chance to prod his tongue past Bokuto’s chapped lips. He licked at his teeth and carefully bit his lip, pulling until Bokuto moaned again.

When Bokuto pulled back to catch his breath, Kuroo spun him around one more time and again forced Bokuto’s bare back against the lockers. “Stay there,” he said, a little short of breath. He kept one hand against Bokuto’s chest to make sure he didn’t disobey. The other fumbled with the waistband of his own shorts, shoving them over his hips and down to pool around his ankles. His dick stood at attention, all reserves of tiredness forgotten. 

Bokuto looked down between them, his eyes shining like liquid gold. Kuroo kissed him again to stop him from staring, then yanked at Bokuto’s shorts as well. They slithered to the floor and Kuroo stepped closer. Their bare lower halves pressed together from knee to thigh to hip. Their dicks brushed against one another and Kuroo heard his own moan echoed in Bokuto’s voice. He felt muscles flex beneath his palm as Bokuto raised his arm and spat into his hand.

“Dude, gross,” whispered Kuroo, though the protest was weak. His arousal was heightened, if anything. 

Bokuto ignored him completely. He reached between them and gripped both of their dicks in his hand. He stroked once, his saliva easing the slide, the calluses on his fingers creating an intoxicating drag.

Kuroo clenched his teeth together and let his head fall forward, forehead resting on Bokuto’s shoulder. “Fuck.”

“I would… totally fuck you,” said Bokuto, his breath coming short as he stroked, “but there’s no lube and… I don’t think I could… _fuck_.”

They’d messed around during the previous training camp on several consecutive nights. Kuroo had quite enjoyed it, and Bokuto’s behavior suggested that he felt the same. They had never progressed to the point of actual sex, and Kuroo hadn’t spared much thought for it.

Now, though, the thought of going a step further made his dick throb and his breath catch.

“Yeah,” he agreed. “We shouldn’t do that right now. But when we do it’s going to be _me_ fucking _you_.”

Bokuto looked up at him, something sharp in his eyes. Kuroo didn’t know if it was caused by the assertion of dominance or the suggestion that they might become more intimate in the future. Either way, the flash of Bokuto’s gaze suggested he wasn’t averse to the idea.

He squeezed his hand around them and threw his head back. A clang echoed from the locker behind him from the impact of his skull, but it didn’t seem to bother him. Kuroo watched the flex of Bokuto’s bicep as he pulled and stroked. It was mesmerizing.

Bokuto moved his fingers a little more roughly and Kuroo almost doubled over. He gasped, his breath sticking in his throat, and reached to press his own long fingers over Bokuto’s.

“You’re the one who’s a tease,” he growled, using his own grip to coax Bokuto into increasing his pace. “Jerk me off like you mean it.”

Bokuto grinned, and the devilish tilt of his mouth made Kuroo’s stomach twist pleasantly. “Is that an order, captain?”

“If you don’t do it then I’ll do it myself,” said Kuroo. He squeezed his fingers over Bokuto’s hand and forced him to stroke more quickly. Most of the saliva had rubbed away and the drag of skin against skin was almost painful, but it was also maddeningly arousing. 

Bokuto’s jaw clenched and he moved his hand faster, independently of Kuroo’s guiding influence. His breath left his parted lips in a little gust, the exhale ghosting across Kuroo’s jaw. 

Kuroo felt his own hot, desperate pleasure build. He was close, so close that his thighs shook and his heart rate pattered into overdrive. He didn’t want to come before Bokuto. Something about that felt like losing, but judging from the look on Bokuto’s face, he wasn’t far behind.

“God, that feels good.” Kuroo leaned closer and mumbled the words into Bokuto’s ear, dropping his voice into a near rasp. If he was going to come, then he was going to make sure Bokuto was right behind him. “Fuck, Bo, so good. Your cock feels so good against mine. It’d feel even better if it was inside me and you were _fucking_ me.”

A ragged moan fell from Bokuto’s lips. Kuroo felt Bokuto’s dick jerk against his own and had only a second to wonder if he was coming before he was struck by his own orgasm. The pleasure rippled outward, spreading up his torso and through his limbs and buzzing like static in his blood. He may have moaned, but then again, he may have not. He was a little too distracted to notice.

He twitched violently and Bokuto finally released him, his fingers sliding wetly away. Kuroo struggled to catch his breath and dropped his gaze between them, to the twin bursts of come that had sprayed across their stomachs and dribbled down their dicks. He raised his head to find Bokuto looking at him, his heavy eyelids half-lowered, eyes shining dully beneath.

For a moment they just stared at one another. Then they grinned in the same instant, amused and satisfied.

Kuroo took a step back and stripped off his jersey. He wondered if he could rinse it off in the sink and keep his teammates from noticing the fresh stain. He should have taken it off before, but it had been a little difficult to think about such practicalities at the time.

“You look tired now,” said Kuroo. “Did that wind you down a little?”

Bokuto punched him in the arm, but lightly. It didn’t even sting. “Don’t talk like you only did that for me. You look pretty relaxed too.”

“I didn’t need to relax. I was already practically asleep when you came in and distracted me.”

“Are you complaining?”

Kuroo made a sound that was half-huff and half-laugh. “No.”

Bokuto grinned again and kicked his shorts the rest of the way off. His kneepads had escaped the mess and he peeled them off slowly.

Kuroo watched a little more intently than was entirely appropriate. Bokuto’s upper body was impressive, but his legs weren’t exactly disappointing.

“I need a shower,” said Bokuto as he tossed the kneepads into his bag. He poked at his stomach and frowned. “I’m sticky.”

“Gross.”

“Shut up, Kuroo. I’m going to get cleaned up.”

“Right behind you, Bo.”

Bokuto was only four steps away before he stopped and turned back. “Hey, uh… were you serious? About what you said earlier, I mean?”

Kuroo had moved forward to follow him and he stopped abruptly. He tried to think of what he’d said, but came up blank. “What’re you talking about?”

Bokuto cut his eyes to the side, his cheeks starting to turn pink again. He was bare-ass naked, yet he was more embarrassed by whatever was about to come out of his mouth. 

Kuroo thought he was adorable, but he would never say that out loud.

“What you said about… about me fucking you.” Bokuto glanced up at him quickly before looking away again. “Would you let me do that?”

A shiver crawled down Kuroo’s spine, but it wasn’t necessarily unpleasant. The suggestion made him a little anxious, but he thought maybe he felt a little excited, too. He swallowed, crafted his response carefully in his mind, and said, “Well if the circumstances were right then I don’t see why not. Only if you’d let me fuck you back, though. That’s only fair.”

Bokuto nodded and looked back up at him. “Yeah, of course! I mean… if that’s what you’d want to do, I wouldn’t… I wouldn’t mind I guess.”

Kuroo felt warm, and it was a different sort of heat than sexual attraction.

Those feelings were something he’d have to deal with later, when he and Bokuto weren’t standing naked in the locker room, covered in their own come. 

“Let’s go,” he said, moving forward to nudge Bokuto toward the showers. “I need sleep.”

“You always need sleep,” said Bokuto, taking an obliging step in the right direction. “You’re like a cat.”

Kuroo hummed in content agreement. Then he draped his arms over Bokuto’s shoulders from behind and fitted his chest against Bokuto’s back.

Bokuto squawked and tried to wriggle away, but Kuroo held on tight.

“Dude, get off of me! You’re getting come everywhere! It’s gross!”

Kuroo trailed his fingers through the cooling come on Bokuto’s stomach, smeared it across Bokuto’s jaw, and laughed at his indignant yelp. 

After a few minutes of struggling, they made it to the showers and scrubbed themselves clean. By the time they’d finished, the hot water had lulled Kuroo into a zombie-like state. He could probably make it back to his temporary bed, but as soon as he was horizontal he would be dead asleep.

“’Night, Kuroo,” said Bokuto. He slipped into his team jacket and pulled the collar high around his neck. His hair was still wet. It dripped a transparent trail from his temple down to the line of his jaw. 

“’Night, Bo. See you tomorrow. Be prepared to get your ass kicked.”

“I hope you dream about that,” said Bokuto with a grin, “because that’s the only place you’ll ever see it happen.”

Kuroo shoved him, but it was so lightly that Bokuto didn’t even sway from the force. They lingered for a moment too long and then turned to go their separate ways. Kuroo hadn’t gotten a good look at Bokuto through his tired haze, but he felt heat creeping into his own face, a silent reminder that maybe he liked Bokuto as something a little more than just a friend, opponent, and occasional sex partner. 

It might make things more complicated.

Then again, it might make things even better.

Kuroo had always enjoyed training camps, but he had a feeling this was going to be his favorite one of all.


End file.
